


Jay's night

by alinewrites



Category: Kasabian
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-11
Updated: 2011-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-14 16:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinewrites/pseuds/alinewrites





	Jay's night

It’s Jay’s day. Night. Whatever. One of those. Jay’s lucky night. He cut off the drugs – he’s not as much into those as the others so it’s no big deal. He’s waiting. Waiting for his delectable prey to fall into his hands.

The show’s been great, mental, massive, no matter how they call it. The party looks promising too. Dib’s nicely drunk. Serge had got hold of two cute birds, or maybe they got hold of him and he’s telling her stories he’s making up, smiling and looking very happy. He can last all night, even in the improbable case where there’s no fucking involved.

Tom is prowling the room, laughing and singing and joking and being his altogether charming mindless self. He’s constantly bragging about how good the show was, how wonderful and fresh that song had sounded, how much he loved Serge’s new ideas (Serge is not even listening to him) and there are girls around him he doesn’t care about. Jay sees it all written over his face; the need.

So a few minutes later he catches him as he’s walking out the door. “Hey, Obi Wan, Where do you think you’re going?”

Tom looks at Jay defiantly. His eyes are full of shadows, his hair and his beard shine like silk. Jay wants to feel the touch of this silk against his lips later. He wants this. “Where do you think I’m going, my young Padawan?”

Jay whistles, cuffs Tom on the side of the head, softly. “Don’t be insolent, boy.”

“Fuck off, Jay,” Tom says.

“You don’t know the city. You’ll get lost. Some places you don’t go alone. You have to take your Daddy with you.”

Jay hears the slight catch in Tom’s breathing. Got him. “Do you know some of these places?”

“Uh uh. I do,” Jay says. “I worked here a few months with the Cobbs and BRMC. Interested?”

Tom’s gaze hardens. “Fuck yes.”

They keep silent during the drive – they took the car Jay rented. Once at the club Jay checks out with the bouncer at the door, who’s twice his size and weight, making sure there’s no press inside. When they walk inside the club at last the sound overwhelms them, music beating against their skin, pulsing up and down their spine. Loud. Deep. Deafening. The room is dark enough. There’s a small dancefloor and a bar. Jay drags Tom there, a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Jason,” the barman says. “Long time no see. That your boy?”

Jay raises an eyebrow, turns to Tom who looks at him expectantly. “Hi, Jamie.” Then turning to Tom. “Are you my boy, Tommy?”

Tom looks around at the leather clad men who all look like Jay somehow, from the heavy leather boots to the dark glasses. “Yeah.”

Tom wears black jeans and a black denim jacket. He dropped the bandana before they went. He’s handsome as fuck and twice as hot as any guy here and Jay smiles, throws an arm around Tom’s shoulder. Tom downs his scotch and orders another one. The barman looks at Jay and Jay nods. Tom gets his drink, leans against the counter. Presses a little against Jay. Taps his fingers on the deck rhythmically.

They dance. Jay barely moves but Tom… Someone throws a leather cap to him and he puts it on, raises his hands and starts moving. When Tom moves like this, everyone watches. Jay watches, like he hasn’t got enough of Tom moving after two hours on stage and three months on tour. When one of the guys comes a bit too close to Tom, who’s too far gone to notice and would let him anyway Jay steps in and the guy steps back.

When Tom’s tired of dancing he asks for more drinks. When he’s tired of drinking he leans against Jay again.

Jay kisses him, threading his fingers in the luxurious silk of Tom’s hair, pressing against him. Tom presses harder. Hungry.

“There’s a room at the back,” the barman says. “More like a closet. You’ll feel more intimate there. You can have it for half an hour.”

He unlocks the door for them. Tom wraps himself around Jay tightly. The room is empty. No light but Jay checks for anything that can look like a camera. “Don’t sweat it,” the barman says. “We don’t do that.”

He walks out and Jay says, “We’ll have to go for the floor or the wall.”

Tom shrugs like he doesn’t care. Jay shoves him against the wall. Tom’s hands come around his shoulders; he says something Jay doesn’t hear. Grabbing Tom’s short soft beard he pulls him into a deep kiss, shoves a leg between Tom’s thighs, parting them. Tom gasps. “Fuck me, man. Fuck me now.”

Some fumbling and Tom’s clothes drop to the floor; naked skin against Jay’s leather, another kiss, hard and biting, Tom’s hands tightening on Jay’s shoulders, Jay’s hands running over Tom’s warm skin, thigh pressing against his cock, making him shiver and moan. Jay runs his fingers over Tom’s face while Tom rubs himself against Jay’s trousers; Jay traces Tom’s parted lips, and kisses them. Tom’s fumbling hands are undoing Jay’s leathers and pulling them down, freeing his cock. Skin against skin, Tom’s hips are moving as he deepens the kiss. Jay pulls his head back to kiss deeper and takes a step back, not touching Tom any longer except for their joined lips.

“You fucking bastard,” Tom said. “Come back. Come back and fuck me.”

Jay slaps him across the face softly, backhands him, and Tom’s hair are all mussed now, falling over his eyes. “Respect your Daddy, boy,” he says.

He spins Tom around so that Tom is leaning against the wall, braced on his arms, panting. Turning his head he glares at Jay. “Do it.”

“Patience,” Jay says, and pulls the lube and condoms from his back pocket, rips the condom open, coats his fingers and pushes them against Tom’s ass, stroking the cleft, finding the tight opening, smiling at the way Tom moans, hisses, feeling him push back against his fingers. When he does, Jay pulls his fingers out. “You do this one more time and it’s over.”

Tom freezes and stills, lets Jay’s finger fuck him until he’s almost sobbing with need. Jay pulls off, strokes Tom’s back from the damp nape of his neck to his ass, hard, knuckles tracing his spine, making him shiver. He runs his fingers through his hair, locks them there, pulls back hard. Then he presses him against the wall, hard, and parts the cheeks of his ass with his palms, pushing the head of his cock inside Tom, a bit too hard, a bit too fast, making him cry out and arch his back, almost escaping him. Jay pulls him back roughly, impaling him deeper on his cock. “Don’t,” he says, pulling harder on Tom’s hair. “Fucking don’t.”

He waits until Tom’s breath is back to normal and starts to thrust, hard, deep, and Tom’s pushing back for good now, growling, hissing, swearing, begging. “Do me harder, Jayayayson, come on, do me, fuck!”

When Jay lets go completely, putting all his weight, all his strength in the fucking, Tom throws his head back and cries out, trembling, sobbing, and Jay grabs him by the hair, pulls him back and bites down on Tom’s shoulder, hard, and harder, sliding a hand round Tom’s waist, grabbing his cock, stroking him one, twice… Tom comes, Jay following.

When Jay pulls out, Tom slides down the wall, exhausted. A knock at the door. “All done?”

“Yeah. Give us a minute…”

He helps Tom back into his clothes, grabbing a few kisses here and there, Tom laughing delightedly – at least sex doesn’t make him depressed afterwards. “Come on, Tommy boy. Let’s go.”

Tom falls asleep during the drive back. Jay has to shake him awake. He drags him out of the car, wraps an arm around his shoulders and they walk inside the lobby of the hotel back to Tom’s room.

When Serge appears at the top of the stairs, Tom straightens up, runs a hand across his hair, tidying up, strokes his beards and smiles weakly.

“Nice night?” Serge asks.

Tom ‘s smile widens. “Very nice. The reverend knows the best place.”

Serge’s gaze falls on Jay. “Does he really?”

“Yeah. Amazing.”

Serge looks away. “Well, I’m going to bed. Good night.”

Only the next day as they are changing mere seconds before the show does Serge see the angry bite marks on Tom’s shoulder. Jay expects a remark. When nothing comes, he grabs his guitar and walks up on stage.


End file.
